


The Art of Looking for Trouble

by Annakovsky, tearupthesky



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annakovsky/pseuds/Annakovsky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearupthesky/pseuds/tearupthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This chart comes in handy <i>so much</i>, she doesn't know why everyone complains about it all the time.</p><p>(Takes place during 3x01, "Go Big or Go Home.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Looking for Trouble

Ann leaves the Bulge right after Chris does, looking all bummed out that their plan crashed and burned like that. She's such a good friend -- right now she looks as sad over the Parks budget as Leslie feels. God, how are they going to get their money now?

Leslie's sitting at the bar drowning her sorrows in a Sweetums (TM) Kotton Kandy martini and trying to brainstorm the budget with herself when someone settles on the stool next to her. "Told you you weren't that sneaky," Ben says. He's got another beer in his hand, which is at least the fifth Leslie's seen him drink tonight.

"What are you still doing here?" Leslie says. She thought Horrible Awful Mean Person Ben left when Chris did. "Shouldn't you be out taking candy away from babies?"

Ben looks at her and for a second she thinks he's suppressing a smile, but she just must be a little tipsy. "I live in a hotel," he says after a second, looking at the disco ball hanging over the dance floor. "Believe it or not, the Bulge is actually less depressing."

Leslie chews on another maraschino cherry and watches Ben take a long sip of his beer. "God," she says. "I can't believe you crashed Ann and Chris's date."

Ben laughs, short and sharp. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"That's just pathetic," Leslie says. "Are you in love with Chris? I mean, his cheekbones are very impressive. It could happen to anybody."

Ben rolls his eyes at her, drains the last of his beer, and starts to get up, getting car keys out of his pocket. "Well, Leslie, as always it's been a pleasure."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. She grabs the car keys out of his hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What?" he says, looking genuinely startled.

Look, Ben _is_ ruining Leslie's life, but that doesn't mean she wants him to die in a fiery drunk driving accident! The next guy they send could be even worse! She gets out her chart, still holding Ben's keys in her hand.

"Um, what are you doing?" Ben says, watching her like he thinks she's lost her mind. Which is pretty much how he always watches her.

"I think you've had a few too many," Leslie says. "What are you, 5'9", 140 pounds?"

Ben blinks at her. "Hey!" he says.

Yeah, she thought so. She puts her finger on his line on the chart. "And I've seen you drink... five beers. And I wasn't watching you this whole time."

Ben shifts his weight irritably from one leg to the other. "You've been counting how many beers I had?"

Leslie goes to five drinks on the chart and yup, it is red as anything. "Oh, you are way over the line into impaired," she says. "I'll give you these keys back when it's safe for you to drive. In... three hours!" She smiles at him. This chart comes in handy _so much_ , she doesn't know why everyone complains about it all the time.

Ben rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes like the hangover's already hitting him. "Leslie, we're in Pawnee. This bar closes at 11:30. We don't have three hours, we have..." He turns his wrist over and squints at his watch. "Eleven minutes."

"Rules are rules," Leslie says brightly, tucking the card and Ben's keys safely away in her pocket. "You could always take the bus. Oh, wait, that's right, you already slashed the bus routes. Smooth move, Ice Clown."

Ben groans and turns toward the bar, leaning on it heavily. "Excuse me. Hi. Could you call me a cab, please?"

Marcus the bartender barks an abrupt laugh and waves his hand at Ben. "You're a cab, honey," he says, then goes back to wiping glasses. God, Leslie loves gays.

Ben turns to her, blinking. "What just happened?"

Leslie cocks her head, pursing her lips. "I don't know, Ben. Maybe you ruined our entire town, and now nobody likes you or wants to help you ever? Could that be it?"

"Seriously?" Ben says, his jaw tensing up. "Seriously, I can't even get a cab?"

Leslie rolls her eyes. "We're in Pawnee," she mumbles, shrugging. "Our cabs stop running at ten. Come on, I'll drive you to your stupid hotel. I'll bring your keys back in the morning. You're up by five, right?"

She starts heading for the exit, not looking back, even though she wants to so badly, wishing she could see Ben trailing behind her like a sad little drunk puppy. Who's being a nuisance now, Mr. "If you try to schedule one more meeting with me, I'm taking out a restraining order"? She's halfway across the parking lot, digging through her purse for her car keys, when his footsteps suddenly pick up and he grabs her arm. Leslie gasps, almost flipping him with one of those moves she learned in Ron's self-defense class before she collects herself.

"Not so fast, Deputy," Ben says, his mouth quirking in that smug, turdish way it does. Okay, fine, maybe it was slightly malicious of her to talk all those people into calling him Turd Boy, but seriously, come on, just look at him. "I happen to know you had at least two Leslie-tinis. Not to mention the Slippery Knopel. And I just saw you chugging what looked like window cleaner. Now you're what, three feet tall?" Ben holds his palm up to his face and studies it somberly. "According to my chart, you'll be safe to drive in... six to eight months. Hand them over."

Leslie stares at him. "I'm not giving you my keys."

Ben's eyebrows furrow. "Rules are rules, Ms. Knope."

Oh, God, she's never wanted to punch anybody this bad in her entire life, not even Greg Pikitis. "Leslie-tinis are, like, ninety percent whipped cream anyway."

Ben holds out his hand. "The chart has no room for your excuses."

"You don't even have a chart," Leslie mutters before she sighs and slaps her keys into Ben's stupid, money-grubbing, bureaucratic hand.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Leslie stares at him, not knowing what they're supposed to do now. "Well, little Benjy Wyatt, it looks like we're in a bit of a standoff here."

"Don't call me that," Ben says, and then starts fumbling for his phone. "God," he mutters. "I'll just call Chris to come pick me up -- he doesn't need artificial stimulants, he's drunk on life." He says the last part like he's repeating something he's heard a few dozen times that he hates even more than rhyming headlines about his failed tenure as mayor.

But Leslie's just had another one of her great ideas, blasting into her head like a thunderbolt from God himself. She snatches the phone out of Ben's hand.

"Hey!" Ben says. He tries to grab it back, but he actually is pretty drunk and totally misses Leslie's hand. She told him Leslie-tinis were mostly whipped cream. "Oh my God, what is wrong with you?"

"You can't call Chris," Leslie says. "You are the most insensitive person. You just _crushed_ his little heart tonight. He's not going to come pick you up."

Ben sputters, throwing his hands up in a _seriously, what the hell_ kind of way. " _I_ crushed his little heart?! I didn't even say anything! You're the one who blew your stupid plan to use sex to trick Chris into giving you money for, God, youth soccer leagues -- and really, by the way? Youth soccer? That's what you'll sell Ann Perkins for?"

"I wasn't using _sex,_ " Leslie says. "She wasn't going to sleep with him. It was a first date."

Ben raises his eyebrows at her.

Leslie rolls her eyes. "Well, maybe in an _emergency_ , but that's not the point." She turns and starts walking out of the parking lot, turning left down the street.

After a second she hears Ben sigh heavily and then start to follow her. "Where are you going?" he says, all long-suffering like when he comes back to his office to find her already sitting there.

"I can get us home," she lies. Ramsett Park is just down the street. If she can just _show_ Ben how great the parks are, he'll have to crack and see how important they are to the budget, right? She knows there's some tiny, Grinch-like heart down there buried deep in his chest. It's just going to take the right thing to make it grow three sizes and bring the presents back to Cindy Lou Who, and whose heart doesn't grow when they see the pond in Ramsett Park? There are goldfish in there and everything.

When Ben sees the sign for the park he groans theatrically. "Leslie," he says as she turns down the path leading to the pond.

"What?" she says, turning around to look at him, but still walking backwards into the wooded area down the dirt path. Ramsett Park is one of their best parks, it's all forest-y.

"The parks are closed," Ben says. "You're not allowed to go in there."

Leslie makes her most challenging face at him. "You scared?" she says. "Oooh, there's a sign saying closed, because Ben said they were closed, and Ben's too scared to walk past a _sign_."

Ben rolls his eyes, but she totally got to him, because he starts following her down the path. "Okay, but I'm really not sure how this is going to get us ho-- Oh my God. Are you kidding? You think I'm going to see the park and give you the non-existent money the town _doesn't have_?"

Well, anything would sound like a bad idea if you said it in that snotty, skeptical tone. The Declaration of Independence would probably sound like a total downer if Ben was the one reading it out loud. "No," Leslie lies, feeling heat in her cheeks. "I just think someone should be enjoying the parks before you decide to pave over them and build condos or a Wal-Mart or a... puppy-killing factory."

Ben chuckles beside her. Of course he thinks the murder of adorable puppies would be hilarious, that's just so _Ben._ "Right, because that's the plan," he says.

"It might as well be," Leslie says, feeling it from the bottom of her soul. "Just look around, Ben! Look how beautiful this park is! Do you really want to be the one who takes it away from Pawnee's kids? Is that the message you want to send, that nature and fresh air and exercise and goldfish aren't important?"

She hears him suck in a deep, deep breath of that fresh air. Yeah, that's right, Ben, you're welcome. "All right, firstly? It's dark. I'm taking it on faith that this is even part of the park and you're not just leading me into the woods to kill me. Secondly, do you really not understand the situation that your city is in? I mean, seriously, still? There's barely enough money in the budget to keep the lights on and the schools open. Is that what _you_ want, Leslie? The parks full of kids all the time because they don't have any _schools_ to go to? Frolicking, illiterate kids?"

Leslie steers them into a clearing, past the handball court. There, now there's enough moonlight to read all the graffiti, she hopes Ben's finally happy. "I'm not saying schools aren't important," Leslie says, even though... no, fine, they're important, Ben's got her there. "I'm just saying parks are important too. There should be enough money for both."

"Yeah, there should," Ben says, and when Leslie squints over at him, he's not smirking or anything. It almost looks like he means it. "And it really, really sucks that there's not, but that's the way it is. I don't know what you think we're keeping from you, but it doesn't exist. There's no secret emergency money hidden in safes behind the murals."

Leslie knows that, okay, she's checked. "There has to be something we can do," she says, anyway, because if she doesn't keep believing that, what's she supposed to do with the rest of her life?

Of course Ben picks that moment to almost trip over a fallen branch, in a desperate and pathetic bid to distract Leslie. She grabs his arm to keep him from faceplanting, and he jerks away as soon as he's steady, shoving his hands into his pockets and frowning. There, now he's starting to look more like himself again.

"Well, keep coming up with crackerjack plans like tonight and I'm sure you'll think of something," Ben says in his old mean, dry way. Ugh, they're almost to the stupid pond, maybe his clumsy butt will just fall in and drown. "I still can't believe you sent in a _ringer_ to seduce my partner."

Leslie snorts. "Grow up, Ben. It's not like I was trying to make anyone do anything gross. They're both consenting, super hot adults. What's the problem?"

Ben gapes at her, mouth open like a trout. Maybe he should watch where he's going, because seriously, she's not even going to try to catch him next time, probably. "If you actually thought that horrible idea would work, why didn't you just go after him yourself?"

Oh, God, doesn't he understand anything? No wonder he's put at least two towns in the tank. "Do I have to explain to you how dating works? Way, way up here, there's people like Ann and Chris," Leslie says, raising her hand over her head. "Then all the way down here, there's normal average human beings like you and me." She drops her hand abruptly. It's harsh, but it's a fact of life, and she's surprised Ben hasn't learned it yet. Isn't the harsh truth what he's all about?

When she glances over to make sure Ben's keeping up, he's eyeing her weirdly, his dumb mouth pulled into a crooked smile. "You and me, huh?" he says, all playful and teasing, and, oh, _gross_. The pond's right in front of them, finally, shining in the moonlight, all the little fish making the water ripple, but who even cares if Ben's just going to ruin it being disgusting?

"Ugh," Leslie says. "Not you and me like _you-and-me_ \-- I didn't mean -- God, you're gross, shut up." She can feel her face going hot again, and she starts walking on the path around the pond, Ben tagging along by her side. It really is pretty at night like this, the wind rustling in the trees, moon silver on the water -- she can't believe Ben ruined it when she was trying to get Chris and Ann to come out here. It would have been both a very romantic evening and an excellent opportunity to talk about the parks budget.

"I'm gross, huh?" Ben says, and even though he's still all smiley and teasing she feels kind of bad, because she didn't mean he was, like, bad-looking gross. She meant his _flirting_ was gross.

"Well, not _gross_ ," she says, clarifying. "I mean, you're fine looking. In certain lights. You're kind of like a less-good-looking Paul Rudd."

Ben's full-on grinning at her now. "Ouch," he says, tilting his head. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Yes," she says, frustrated with him. "Obviously that's a compliment. Paul Rudd is adorable."

Ben's stupid smirky face won't stop doing that crooked grin and it's making her insane. "So I'm adorable," he says.

"Yes," Leslie says before she thinks, then is taken up short. "Wait, no, you're twisting my words!"

"I really don't think I am," Ben says, as Leslie starts to talk over him, saying, "You're so infuriating, you're like a word-twisting wordsmith."

"You said I look like Paul Rudd and that Paul Rudd's adorable!" Ben says, now talking over her. "I'm just using very basic logic here, do they not teach that in Indiana?"

"Shut up," Leslie says, bumping him with her shoulder. "I said you looked like a _less good-looking_ Paul Rudd. You're Ugly Paul Rudd, okay? There's nothing adorable about you."

Ben laughs and bumps her with his own shoulder and oh crap, are they flirting right now? This whole night has just gotten out of control and Leslie's head is all fuzzy. Mean Heartless Ben is actually kind of seeming cute at this moment -- it's very unsettling. Clearly this just goes to show that Leslie should have let Ann set her up again after she broke up with Justin. She must be really hard up to be finding Benjamin Wyatt, State Budget Auditor and Professional Town Ruiner, cute.

"Okay, fine," Ben says. "So if you thought Chris was out of your league, why didn't you just try to seduce Ugly Paul Rudd to get your budget approved?"

Leslie draws herself up to her full height and summons all the dignity she has. "Well, maybe if I thought you had feelings, I would have."

"Ouch," Ben says, but in a quieter voice, like that actually did hurt a little bit. After a second he says, "Come on, you know I have feelings. I drove to Eagleton to get Freddy Spaghetti for you, didn't I?"

That's right, he did. Leslie almost forgot about that.

"My car smelled like a combination of B.O., patchouli oil, tomato sauce, and -- weirdly -- turpentine for two weeks," Ben says. "And if you think that guy comes cheap, think again. No wonder his drummer shot him."

"That was Mr. Funny Noodle," Leslie says absently.

"Mr. Funny Noodle notwithstanding," Ben says in his driest tone. "It's not like I'm some robot. My seemingly impenetrable exterior has its weak spots. Just like the Death Star."

"No wonder you can't get a date, nerd," Leslie says, snorting. It's almost a shame she didn't go after Ben in the first place. A metal bikini might have turned this whole thing around.

Ben laughs his annoying, know-it-all laugh, stepping in front of Leslie so they're face to face and he's blocking her whole view of the pond. God, why does he have to be so tall and stupidly cute all the time? Why couldn't he just be a gross little insignificant bug man she could squish under her shoe? That would make her life so much easier.

"Oh, _I'm_ a nerd?" he says, leaning down to get in her face, his brown eyes all warm and amused.

Leslie yanks on his stupid skinny hipster tie. "Search your feelings, you know it to be true."

Ben laughs, deep and delighted, and Leslie can feel it where her knuckles are still pressed against his chest. She drops her hand like she just got shocked.

"Yeah, well, it takes one to know one," Ben says, poking her in the side like an annoying little brother.

Leslie gasps. "You take that back! I'm not a nerd, I'm cool!"

"Uh, where's the evidence of that?" Ben says, his eyes widening incredulously. "Is it perhaps neatly organized in a color-coded binder?"

Oh, it's on now. Leslie can take a lot of abuse, but everybody has a line. She slaps both hands flat against Ben's chest and shoves with all her might. "Are you perhaps going in the pond, nerd?"

It would have been a pretty awesome burn, too, but dumb old giant Ben doesn't even budge an inch. He wraps his arms around Leslie's waist instead, gathering her up against him like she doesn't weigh a thing, lifting her heels right off the ground. "If I'm going, you're coming with me."

Leslie shrieks, kicking her feet, throwing her arms around Ben's neck and clinging for dear life as he swings her around toward the water. "Ben, no! I hate you, don't you dare! I'm warning you, Benjy Wyatt!"

Ben takes a determined step closer to the edge of the pond and Leslie wriggles and pulls his hair, wishing she could stop giggling drunkenly like a lunatic. That's obviously the only reason Ben isn't taking her threats seriously. He dangles her over the water and she starts kicking more vigorously, losing one of her shoes in the process, hearing the splash. For some reason it just makes her laugh harder.

"Now I've got you where I want you," Ben says like an old-timey movie villain. "If I put you down, do you promise to start cutting me a break?"

"Okay, fine, whatever," Leslie mutters, her mouth accidentally really close to Ben's ear. She could just scream until he gives up, but she doesn't want to draw the raccoons.

Ben pretends to drop her, letting go for just a split second before his hands are all strong and solid on her back again. She clutches him tighter, her heart pounding like crazy. Just, the pond is probably really cold, shut up.

"Do you promise?" Ben demands.

Leslie pulls in a deep breath. "Okay, yes, I promise! Ben, I promise, put me down!"

When he finally relents, sighing a smug, content sigh and taking a small step back, Leslie shouts, "Psych!" and hoists herself up suddenly with her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs tightly around Ben's waist. She totally catches him off guard and he stumbles back, one hand slipping away from her back to flail for balance but it's too late, he falls back and lands on the grass with a thud, Leslie on top of him. She grabs Ben's arms while he's still dazed, pinning his wrists down on the ground above his head, flushed with victory and breathing hard.

The next thing Leslie knows, Ben's mouth is warm and open under hers, and, wait, oh no, who did that?!

Leslie plans to immediately jump back once she's realized, pulling her mouth off Ben's, but alcohol must slow down your brain's commands to your body because it takes her, like, kind of awhile before she actually does it. Ben's lips are soft and nice, his tongue swiping along her lower lip, and her body's all sprawled on top of his and oh crap.

Her muscles finally do what she's been telling them to this whole time and she pulls back really quickly, their lips making a little smacking noise as they detach. "Oh, crap," she says, almost under her breath.

When she's far enough back that she can actually see Ben again, he's smiling, looking slightly foggy as he opens his eyes. "Crap?" he says. He moves his head up following hers like he's trying to kiss her again, but she's still got him pinned by his wrists and he can't reach her.

"Yeah," she says, trying to catch her breath. "Or, no, not -- not the kiss, that was very nice, actually, but oh crap, I'm not supposed to be kissing you."

"Why not?" Ben says. He's just lying there underneath her with his hands above his head in the grass, letting her hold him still and not even trying to get his wrists away. He looks very relaxed. It's weird to see him without the upper hand for once.

For a second Leslie can't actually remember why she shouldn't kiss him. Ben's lips look really soft. Just, she hadn't thought his lips would be that soft. Not that she was thinking about it. She just kind of thought he would kiss like a robot, all metallic and business-like. "Um, because I hate you," she says when she finally manages to remember why this is a bad idea.

"Are you sure?" Ben says. He sounds kind of amused, and Leslie suddenly realizes she's been staring at his mouth this whole time.

"Yes," she says. He raises an eyebrow. "No. I don't know."

He smiles that dumb crooked adorable smile. "Maybe kissing me again would help you figure it out."

"Maybe," Leslie says. That's not a bad idea actually. She leans back down and kisses him again, letting go of one of his wrists so she can put her hand in his hair. God, his mouth is just really nice, it just feels really nice, and his hair's all soft and -- hey, wait a second!

Leslie pulls back again. "Wait, that doesn't make any sense," she says.

"Sure it does," Ben says, grinning at her, and then he reaches up with his now-free hand to cup the back of her neck and pull her back down to kiss him again.

"Ben," Leslie says, protesting half-heartedly, but then he's kissing her, and he's a really good kisser, and she's opening her mouth and then he's rolling them over so he's on top of her, the warm heavy weight of his body feeling amazing, and the grass underneath her and her one bare foot because her shoe's still in the pond.

"You taste like butterscotch," Ben says, soft awe in his voice, his hand slipping down to play with the ruffles on her shirt. Ugh, why does he have to be so good at this? Why can't he just slobber all over her or honk her boob or something to remind her that he's the worst?

It's just, it's been so long since Dave left, and nobody's even really touched her since then. It was practically impossible to get Justin to shut up long enough for them to make out, and other than that, well. It's not like this has been her longest dry spell of all time, but it's been awhile, and Ben's being so nice to her and he smells good and he's opening his mouth just the appropriate amount and -- oh, God, no, Leslie can't! He's her arch-nemesis! She can't roll over for him just because she's hard up. There are plenty of guys in Pawnee who aren't trying to destroy it!

She braces her hands on Ben's shoulders and pushes, and this time he moves easily for her, pulling away and shifting his weight off her, so he's lying right next to her instead of pressing down on her. He cups her face in his hand, his fingertips brushing against her hair, and his palm's all warm, and, no, Leslie has to be strong.

"We can't do this," she says, her fingers curling around the collar of Ben's dorky windbreaker. God, she can't believe she was just making out with a guy in a windbreaker. "It's a conflict of interest. You're in charge of our budget, it would look like -- it would look bad."

Ben combs his fingers through her hair, very slow and careful, looking down at her, pressed all warm against her side. Leslie maybe curls into him a little bit, just, he was keeping her so warm before and it's a chilly night. She slips her hand inside his jacket to keep it from getting too cold. It's not going to help Pawnee one bit if she gets hypothermia.

"It would only look bad if I was showing your department favoritism," Ben says, all quiet and intense like he really, really wants to talk her into this. It must have been a pretty long time since he's gotten laid too. "In the last three months have I done anything that could be even remotely construed as that?"

"No, you've been horrible to us," Leslie answers earnestly, then gasps. "Ben! Have you been withholding funds from the parks department just so it wouldn't look bad if we boned? That's not fair!"

Ben laughs and kisses her again, gentle and quick, like he can't help himself. "No, I haven't. I promise. No psych."

Leslie bites her lip. "What if the cameras--"

"The cameras followed Chris and Ann," Ben says, leaning down cautiously and starting to kiss a slow line down Leslie's neck, just warm, dry presses of his lips. "We're the normal, average, gross, boring people, remember?"

Leslie tilts her head back against the grass, her eyes fluttering closed. Somehow Ben's shirt has accidentally come untucked and she's running her hand up his back, feeling lean muscle under his skin. "All right, fine, whatever," Leslie mutters, pulling Ben closer until he climbs back on top of her, grinning, his kisses turning dirtier, tongue working a tender spot on her neck. Oh, God, if the state auditor gives her a hickey and everyone sees, it will be the worst and hottest thing that's ever happened to Leslie in her entire life. "If you want me that bad, I guess I can't deprive you. Only a mean, stingy, awful person would ever do anything like that."

Ben chuckles low in his throat, his fingers searching out the top button on Leslie's blouse. "God bless you, Leslie Knope."

Leslie squirms around underneath Ben as he goes back to sucking on that spot on her neck, working the button undone with his fingers. She can feel him getting hard against her leg, and over his shoulder she can see dark tree branches swaying against the black of the sky. The park's closed and they're basically in the woods right now, trees all around them so it's not like anybody could see them even if anybody was looking, but Leslie feels so daring and wanton, doing this in public with her arch-nemesis. She scratches her nails gently along the skin of his back, experimenting with being a lewd woman, and Ben groans gratifyingly against her skin.

"You like that?" Leslie finds herself murmuring into Ben's ear.

Ben laughs, moving his head up to look at her. "Did you just ask me if I like that?"

Leslie holds her ground -- she can be sexy! She was showing Ann how to be sexy just earlier today! She makes her voice all badass. "Yeah, I did ask you if you liked that. So do you, Benjy?"

Ben laughs, all warm and dark, and bites his lip for a second, looking down at her and shaking his head like he can't believe she exists. "Yeah, I do, actually," he says, then moves back down to kiss her mouth, wet and dirty.

His hand moves up to cup her breast gently, warm and heavy, spanning it. She can taste the alcohol on his tongue again, and God, they're both so drunk right now -- God, okay, seriously, they must be so drunk, are they actually in public right now, humping each other in the park? Leslie has to respond to complaints about teenagers doing this, like, every week.

Besides, she makes really terrible decisions when she's drunk. Suddenly she can't stop thinking about the time she showed up at Dave's house in the middle of the night drunk to tell him how awesome their first date was going to be and oh God, is she doing that again right now? She needs to think for a second. She needs to -- she should've eaten more at dinner, is what she should've done.

That -- that's what she should do. She pulls back again, pushing Ben away. "Ben. Ben!" she says, trying to get his attention as he tries to keep kissing her.

"What?" he says, blinking at her, eyes dark and dazed looking.

"I think we're drunk," she says.

Ben smiles. "I think you're right," he says, and he's looking at her mouth again. She wants to kiss him. No, Knope! Stop it! Focus up!

"We should eat something," she says.

Ben tilts his head, looking at her weird. "O...kay?"

"I have the keys to the concession stands," she says. "Get up. We can eat some candy." She shoves at his shoulders.

He rolls off her obligingly, but he still seems really confused. She sits up, trying to brush some of the grass off her, and he sits up too after a second, rubbing the back of his head. "You, um -- wait, so, why are we going to eat some candy?"

"To get un-drunk, Ben, c'mon, pay attention!" Leslie says, looking around for her other shoe. Oh, right, it's in the pond. She should make Ben get that.

It takes Ben a couple of tries to get off the ground, legs wobbling like a newborn colt, and when he turns to offer Leslie a gallant hand, she's way ahead of him, teetering on one heel as she brushes off the grass stains.

"All right, Gretel, which way to the candy cottage?" he says, letting his hand rest on her hip instead, leaning in all close like he wants to smell her hair. What a weirdo.

"Ben, my shoe!" Leslie says, hopping on one foot to indicate her sad, half-shoeless state.

"I'll buy you a new one," Ben says, taking her hand and giving her a tug away from the pond.

She gapes at him. "We can't leave it! It's evidence!"

Ben sighs. "Leslie, it's dark and the water's all... fishy."

Leslie makes a face, poking Ben in the stomach. "Oh, is mean Ben scared of the widdle fish? They're goldfish, not piranhas. I thought you Minnesota boys were supposed to be tough!" she laughs as she's digging her pocket flashlight out of her purse and rolling up her sleeves. She clicks on the light and shines it in Ben's face playfully, catching him looking at her with something like amazement.

"Give me that," he says, gently taking the flashlight and hunkering down by the edge of the pond. He has to stretch as far as he can to reach the shoe, wobbling precariously. One good nudge would send him splashing, but before Leslie can decide if it's worth risking her chance of getting laid tonight, Ben pops back up to his feet, clutching her soggy black pump.

"Your slipper, Princess," he says, all dry and sardonic, his tone more Han Solo than Prince Charming, and Leslie's surprised how hard it's working for her. She always used to feel like Leia could do better, but suddenly she's not so sure.

Her shoe's too wet to wear, so she makes Ben give her a piggyback ride to the Sweetums (TM) Snak Shak. He's not as fast as Andy, but his hands feel nice and strong braced under her thighs, and he looks appropriately impressed by her collection of keys to all of Pawnee's lockable park equipment. Yeah, that's right, Wyatt, read them and weep. Non-essential, Leslie's ass. It may take a while to find the right one, but that's only because stupid Ben's distracting her, all pressed against her back, stroking her hip with one hand and brushing her hair away from her neck with the other so he can go back to work on that hickey.

"Would you cool it?" Leslie mutters, tilting her head to give him better access at the same time. "We're on a mission here."

Inside the stand, it really is like a fairy tale, shelves upon shelves of colorful candy stacked as high as Leslie could reach. Which admittedly isn't very high, but whatever, she's not on trial here, there's just a lot of candy. Ben closes the door behind them and Leslie makes a beeline for the Nutri-Yum display, tossing a bar at him over her shoulder.

"Eat that," Leslie says, snagging one of her own, not to mention a candy necklace and a handful of lemon drops. Geez, she's going to leave the money for it, settle down, Columbo.

Ben peels off the wrapper slowly, looking dubious. "This stuff's been sitting out for weeks, Leslie."

Leslie snorts. "Please, this junk has enough preservatives to outlive us both. Maybe even Chris." She shovels half the Nutri-Yum bar into her face to ease Ben's wimpy mind, and oh yeah, that's the stuff. Her mind feels clearer already.

Except, oh crap. Ben's still really, really, really cute.

To try to keep herself from jumping Ben before the Nutri-Yum bar has time to undrunken her, Leslie hops up onto the counter, swinging her legs and watching as Ben takes a tentative nibble out of one corner of his. His face immediately goes from perturbed to pleasantly surprised. "Oh!" he says, then stares at the bar. "This is... uh, I thought this was supposed to be, like, a granola bar type thing."

"I know, right?" Leslie says, putting the candy necklace over her head so it's around her neck.

Ben flips the bar over and reads the list of ingredients, his face getting all amused as he does. Then he looks back at the front of the wrapper. "So they can just put the word 'Nutri' on anything, huh?"

"Oh, there's no regulation," Leslie says. She's already starting to get that Nutri-Yum burst of energy, her head all clear and focused, and Ben's not getting any less cute. His stupid smirky face and his stupid tie and his stupid wind-breaker and how she wishes he were kissing her right now.

For a second Ben looks like he's going to put the Nutri-Yum bar down, but then he says, "Chris would be so pissed off if he knew I was putting this much high fructose corn syrup in my body," and he takes a big bite. Leslie laughs, and Ben comes over to stand between her legs, leaning in all close and flirty and resting his hands on her thighs -- just above her knees so it's all decent and leaving room for the Holy Spirit and everything, but his hands are warm and big and he's smiling at her.

After he's swallowed, he says, "Are you wearing a candy necklace?" reaching out one finger to touch it and the skin underneath, his finger dragging along her collarbone. "I haven't seen one of those since the fourth grade." Leslie shivers without meaning to, but it's probably just all that sugar hitting her system at once; sometimes a Nutri-Yum bar will give you the shakes, that's perfectly normal.

"They're delicious," Leslie says, her voice quiet and weird-sounding even to herself.

"Oh yeah?" Ben says, all quiet back, and he hooks his finger under the necklace, pulling it up out of her collar and lifting it to his mouth. He takes a bite of one of the candy beads, but it's awkward and he can't quite get it, and in the middle of trying to get the candy off the string with his lips he starts laughing. "Wow," he says, once he's finally managed to suck it into his mouth. "That was not sexy at all, was it?"

Leslie's laughing too. "Not really," she says.

Ben's grinning at her, his eyes dark and looking at her mouth. It's pretty dim in the Snak Shak and everything's quiet and it feels so intimate. "I thought it was going to be sexy," he says softly, self-deprecating, leaning in even closer as he talks so his breath is warm on her lips, and then he kisses her.

He's as good a kisser as he was lying on top of her in the grass by the pond, but now his mouth tastes like candy and his fingers flex on her legs and her hands go up to thread through his hair, pulling him in closer. As she pulls him he takes a step forward and she spreads her legs more so he can fit between them, and his hands move up her thighs, hot through her slacks.

"Ben," Leslie says, as he kisses down her jaw, down her neck, starting to fiddle with the buttons of her blouse again. "Why are you doing this?"

"Hmm?" Ben says, and he still sounds all drowsy and drunk, and he's being so nice, his mouth warm on her skin. "Because I have a crush on you."

Leslie scoffs, her hands sneaking down to unknot Ben's tie. "You do not."

"Uh, pretty sure I do," Ben says, fumbling with each button like it's a brand new challenge. He has to stop kissing her halfway through so he can focus, looking down with an expression of intense concentration, and Leslie fidgets on the edge of the counter, blushing and sucking in her stomach a little bit. She wishes she had worn her sexy black bra instead of the stretchy beige grandma model, but it doesn't seem to bother Ben when he finally gets his hands on her boobs, staring all slack-jawed like it's his first time seeing any.

"But you're so mean to me all the time!" Leslie says, even though it's difficult to muster a convincing tone when Ben's touching her so gently, when he's leaning down to kiss the tops of her breasts, acting like it's the best thing he's ever been allowed to do.

"You're so much meaner to me," Ben says, grinning, thumbing Leslie's nipple through the silky fabric of her bra. Leslie swallows and squirms, wishing she could rub her legs together discreetly, but Ben's still standing right between them, stupid Ben. "You're the one restricting my hallway access," he says. "Besides, didn't your mom ever tell you what it means when a boy pulls your hair on the playground?"

Leslie's forehead wrinkles. "Yeah, it means they're threatened by my power as an independent woman!"

Ben laughs and leans up to kiss Leslie's mouth again, his hands smoothing down her bare sides. "Well, maybe that too," he says. "But most of the time it just means they like you."

Ben's shirt gets unbuttoned much more quickly and efficiently than Leslie's did. Her undrunkening plan is obviously working like gangbusters. She shoves that stupid windbreaker and shirt off his shoulders at the same time, and Ben obediently shrugs out of them both, standing in front of her all skinny and pale, the hair on his chest sparse and wiry. He's blushing too, looking down and shuffling his feet, and, God, he's such a dork, what does Leslie have to be scared of? Not that she's scared of anything, okay, shut up.

"So, what do you like about me?" Leslie says, pulling Ben against her again so she can feel his skin. She's trying to sound tough, more smug than skeptical, but she only makes it about halfway there. Maybe Ben won't notice if she starts unbuckling his belt.

"If I give you a list, are you going to get it notarized and laminated?" Ben says with a warm, crooked smile.

"How else would people know it was official?" Leslie asks, yanking Ben's belt free of its loops and then reaching for the button of his trousers. Before she can get there, Ben catches her hands and pulls them up slowly to his mouth to kiss them. Wait, is he just messing with her after all? She thought he was ready to do this thing. Leslie bites her lip, trying not to let her face fall. Great, like Ben didn't have enough stuff to use against her in the first place. Let's not give any money to Knope, she's a total nympho, she'll just blow it all on crazy sex toys and getting the Kama Sutra added to the high school curriculum. Oh, God, oh, God, what's she doing?

Ben drapes her hands around the back of his neck, then runs his hands along her naked arms slowly, over her shoulders, up into her hair. "Officially," Ben says, "you're the most adorable person I have ever met. You're smart and funny and driven and relentless and insane," he says, grin spreading wider and wider across his face. "You want to make things better, and I hardly even remember what it was like to feel that way, but I know that when I did, I was happier than I am now. And you just... I don't know. You make me want to be happy again."

Leslie can feel herself blushing and she wants to hide her face in Ben's neck or something, but she makes herself not do it, instead just threading her fingers through the short hairs at the back of Ben's skull and looking down at her bare feet, kicking against the counter. "Aww, shut up, no, I don't," she says, feeling weirdly even more exposed than when Ben was looking at her with her shirt off.

Ben's still smiling at her, his bare skin against hers, playing with her hair. "Do too," he says, and leans in to kiss her again, his stubble scraping her. She feels so stupidly happy.

When he finally pulls back, he leans his forehead against hers, his hands moving to stroke along her sides again, her back. "So what do you like about me?" he says, his voice all flirty and teasing, like he knows that until a couple of hours ago, her answer would've been an emphatic _Nothing_. Unless she was drunk, then she might've said something about how just because he has a stupid adorable face he thinks he can go around ruining cities with impunity.

"Well," she says, feeling like she's getting some of her equilibrium back after he said all those nice things about her. And maybe she wants to pull his pigtails a little bit too, all right? Two can play at that game. "I can tell you what I _don't_ like about you."

For a second Ben actually looks a little worried. "Um..." he starts.

"And that's how you won't let me take your pants off," Leslie says, before he can actually start panicking. So Mean Ben really does have feelings after all -- that's so weird to adjust to.

Ben snorts. "Oh, really?" he says.

"Yes, really," Leslie says, grinning at him. "Tease."

Ben laughs. "In that case," he says, and leans in to kiss her again, but as he licks into her mouth, he reaches around to her back and undoes her bra. Leslie moves her arms down to help him shrug it off her, and then Ben's hands are on her bare breasts, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers in this way that feels like it goes right to her lady parts. God, why does he have to be so good at this? She actually gasps into his mouth, which is so embarrassing, and she can feel him smiling.

"Shut up," she mumbles, and reaches for his fly, starting to undo the button there. Her hand brushes his cock, and he groans, and it's so much nicer to have him the one making embarrassing noises. Experimentally, she presses her palm against him and the groan turns strangled.

"Jesus, Leslie," Ben says, breathless, and he's pulled back far enough that she can see how dark his eyes are, how dazed he looks and how his mouth's fallen open.

She wants to get his pants off so bad, and she fumbles for his zipper, starting to work it down. Ben's still breathing hard, but he starts kissing her again, sucking at that hickey he was giving her for a second before moving down lower, kissing the tops of her breasts, then moving down to suck one nipple into his mouth. His mouth is hot in the cool of the concession stand, and his tongue swipes over her teasingly, her nipple hardening up so much it almost hurts. It's not fair, how is she supposed to concentrate on getting his pants off when he keeps doing stuff like that?

At least it's a step in the right direction when Ben starts undoing the fly of Leslie's dress pants, helping her lift her hips so he can carefully skim them down her legs, but then he keeps moving lower, kissing a warm line down Leslie's belly, and she feels her stomach flip over.

"Hey, come back here," she says, pulling on his shoulders.

Ben blinks up at her, his mouth hovering near her navel. "Um, really?" he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he thinks she might be joking, and what's that about? Come on, everybody knows ladies don't really like that kind of thing. A guy sticking his face all up in your lady business? No, thank you, sir.

"Yeah, really," Leslie says. "Let's get this show on the road."

She gets her hands around Ben's biceps and yanks harder. Ben rises up obediently this time, slotting his hips between her spread legs again so Leslie can feel the jut of his cock through his trousers and the flimsy fabric of her underwear. When she sucks on his bottom lip, he pushes against her in this way that makes her shiver down to her toes, and, God, this is already the best sex she's ever had and he hasn't even put it in yet, how's he doing that?

Once she gets Ben's pants unzipped the rest of the way, they slide down his skinny legs easily. For a second she wishes his boxers would have little hearts or Looney Tunes on them just so she'd have a reason to laugh at him, but they're sensible plain white cotton, of course. Then she's reaching inside and pulling out his cock through the slit, and, okay, now she's really not laughing.

"Oh," Leslie says softly, running her hand along him. "Oh, it's nice."

"Don't sound so shocked," Ben says, sighing when Leslie swipes her thumb over the tip, his face going slack and sweet.

Leslie bites her lip. "I'm not, just. There may be some rumors floating around."

"Leslie," Ben groans, probably at least partially due to the way she's squeezing him and twisting her hand. She hopes, anyway. "Wait," Ben says, taking hold of her wrist to hold it still.

Her face falls. "What? I'll take it back. I don't think that many people believed it was medically possible anyway."

Ben laughs and kisses her quickly. "No, I just -- I have -- in my wallet," he stammers, starting to lean down, but Leslie stops him.

"Don't worry, I got this," she says, rifling one-handed through her nearby purse, retrieving a condom from her discreet compact case. While she's rolling it on him, Ben peels her underwear down, then he's pressing his hand right between her legs, and Leslie doesn't even know what he's doing but it's making her eyes roll back in her head. Mark must have been a whole lot drunker than Ben that one time he and Leslie did it, because he wasn't displaying anything near this level of hand-eye coordination. Too bad they didn't have Nutri-Yum bars back then.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Leslie?" Ben asks, teasing her with just his fingertips pressing inside, and, ugh, what a jerk, does he want her to beg him for it or what? Hasn't she begged him for enough stuff recently?

"I'm super sure, let's go," Leslie says, wrapping her legs around Ben's waist and pulling him against her decisively. Ben barely fumbles a hand around his cock in time to get it lined up and then he's pressing into her, both of them breathing in as the thick tip stretches her open, then the rest is an easy deep slide until he's buried all the way and they're touching everywhere, Leslie's arms around his neck. She can feel how wet she is around him, opening up for him so easily even though it's been so long, and she'd blush but it's hard to be embarrassed about anything when Ben has such a stupid look on his face, like this is the most amazing thing he's ever felt in his entire life, like his head's going to explode if he even tries to move. Which, fair enough, except Leslie kind of really, really needs him to move right now.

She squirms forward, trying to get some friction, so she's perched right on the edge of the counter, and Ben groans, breathing hard. "Hold on a sec," he says, his hands holding her hips still like if she moves he might come before they even get started. That's kind of amazing, that he's that turned on, resting his forehead against hers.

After a second he leans in to kiss her, but his kissing is much sloppier now, like he's so distracted, his mouth almost sliding off the corner of hers, and God, he feels good inside her.

She's trying to be patient, but she can't stand this much longer. "C'monnnnn," she says, all whiny, pulling his hips toward her with her legs still wrapped around his waist.

He laughs a little, but he's still breathless, and he brushes her hair back from her face, his fingers warm against her skin. "All right, all right," he says, smiling at her. He moves his hips out slow, then shoves back in hard, the slick slide of it, grinding against her as he presses in, his cock thick inside her, and God, it just feels really good as he starts to set a rhythm, moving in her steadily, the two of them pressed so close together. Her breasts are against his chest, the hair there tickling her a little bit, and she's starting to sweat, her skin sticking to Ben's in the close Snak Shak air. She can smell sugar and artificial flavoring and Ben.

She's getting that vaguely nice feeling that comes with sex, how good it feels to be skin to skin, how his cock feels nice inside her, and Ben's making these little noises every time he thrusts in, desperate and undone, and it makes her want to kiss him, so she does, even though it's just for a second before they have to break apart again to gasp for breath.

It's really pleasant but she's just hoping that he doesn't make it go on for a really long time -- she always gets so bored when guys do that, banging away for ages while her mind starts wandering to, say, the Rec Center class schedules. But then Ben works his hand in between their two bodies, so he's pressing just above where his cock's sliding in and out of her, and oh God, oh, what's he doing?

"Oh!" she can't help saying, her whole body shuddering involuntarily, and wow, he really is better with his hands than Mark was, she doesn't know how he's doing this drunk.

When she moves her head back far enough to see him, Ben's grinning at her. "There?" he says, and slides his fingers over her again and she gasps, it feels so amazing.

"Um, yeah," she says, and he does it again, moving slippery fingers over her as his cock keeps moving, and oh God, she can hardly stand how great it is. "Don't you dare stop!"

Ben laughs and kisses her temple messily, pulling her closer, and doesn't stop. That nice feeling is starting to build, already so much more intense than she's used to, and she's not bored _at all_ , it's so weird. She wants Ben to keep doing this forever, but also to go harder, and she shoves her hips onto him, meeting his thrusts and working hard, wanting more of that feeling, and it's building and building.

"Oh, Jesus," he mutters into her hair, and he speeds up, and then suddenly that amazing feeling is breaking over her in waves, so intense and all-consuming, and she can feel herself clenching down on his cock, shuddering around him, and it feels so weird and he feels so hard inside her and she's so _surprised_. She's making the most embarrassing noises, but Ben doesn't seem to think it's weird, he's just got his arms wrapped around her and keeps thrusting into her, murmuring little nonsense things as she rides it out, kissing her face and her neck.

"Ben, Ben, can you feel that?" Leslie gasps, clutching his back, fingers scrabbling on his sweaty skin. She feels so wrung out, all her muscles strained and shaky, but she still doesn't want it to stop, the good feeling getting drawn out more and more with every thrust, bursting hot and fizzy inside her but softer now, like sparklers instead of full-blown fireworks. She already wants to do it again, even though she knows they can't, they really shouldn't, it's against the rules and what would everyone think, but oh, no, just thinking about that sends another wave of naughty heat through her.

Ben slams in harder, his hands curled under her ass so he's practically holding her up, lifting her right off the counter. "I feel it," he says, hitting so deep and heavy inside her, so hard she thinks she'll be able to feel it tomorrow when she's sitting at her desk, when she has to talk to Ron and Chris and be professional and go about her business trying to save the town, and no one's going to know, just her and Ben, and oh, no, now it's building all over again, her insides all rushing and reaching. "God, you're amazing," Ben says, rubbing her with his fingers in that ridiculous way, groaning when Leslie starts clenching down on him all over again. "Oh, God, oh, oh, _Leslie_ ," he groans, his rhythm going all spasmodic, and oh, yeah, that's more what Leslie's used to, but it doesn't even matter anymore, she's just trying to catch her breath, holding Ben to her and feeling him pant against her skin.

"Yeah, you liked that, didn't you?" Leslie says when she can, combing her fingers through Ben's sweat-damp hair.

Ben chuckles, lifting his head slowly, touching Leslie all over, running his hands up her back, along her arms, across her collar bones as if she were something delicate and precious. Hey, that clavicle survived a fall in the pit, even if it didn't feel like it at the time. She's made of tough stuff, she can totally handle a dirty little secret one-night stand. Everything's going to be fine, just breathe, Leslie, just breathe.

"I guess it was pretty all right," Ben says, leaning in and kissing Leslie softly, touching her flushed cheeks and her hair, and okay, mister, that's about enough of that. It's time to start pulling it together here.

Leslie lets herself have one more kiss, counting it out one-two-three, then she puts her hands on Ben's shoulders and pushes him back gently. "We should, um," she says halfheartedly. "It's really -- it's getting late."

Ben's forehead wrinkles for a second, then he smiles kind of wry and crooked but not surprised. Leslie wants to take him home with her so badly, but she can't, she can't, she can't. This was already a terrible idea. She has to think about what's best for Pawnee, not just her own base, inappropriate desires.

"Right," Ben says quietly. "Another fun-filled day at Pioneer Hall tomorrow." He sounds like he'd rather be dragged across hot coals.

"Maybe it will be," Leslie says, scaring up a little smile, leaning up quickly to peck Ben on the cheek. He looks down, blushing as he carefully pulls out, and Leslie feels so empty when he's gone, she can hardly stand it. He helps her hop down from the counter and they get dressed quickly, Leslie's keys jingling in Ben's pocket when he pulls up his pants.

"I, um," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't think that was quite three hours." He fumbles the keys out and hands them over. "Think you're up for it, Knope?"

Leslie bites her lip. Truthfully she only let Marcus the bartender splash her drinks with booze, and she probably would have been fine to drive them home straight from the bar, but, well. She doesn't want to be the only one here without an excuse. "I don't know," she says. "You sure you want to risk it?"

Ben smiles at her, reaches out and smooths her hair, tucking a stray piece behind her ear. "What choice do I have?" he says. "You're my only hope."

**

She and Ben spend the whole morning at work being relentlessly professional in front of their colleagues and the cameras, and Leslie's proud of herself for how normal she manages to be -- even though she catches Ben looking at her kind of a lot, she doesn't blush or anything. It's not until after Ben agrees to the Harvest Festival that she's suddenly hit with a wave of self-doubt.

At 12:30, the cameras are watching April and Andy, so she sneaks off to Ben and Chris's office, and just like she expects, Chris is away on his daily run, and Ben's sitting his desk working through lunch. Those two. So weirdly predictable.

When she shuts the door behind her, Ben looks up and grins. "Hey," he says, and he shouldn't be using that tone with her, even in private like this -- God, someone's going to figure out what happened with the way he keeps looking at her. She tries to give him a forbidding glare but she seems to end up mostly smiling. Her stupid mouth! "What's up?" Ben says.

Leslie tries to re-summon her workplace manner and feels suddenly nervous. Just, they shouldn't have done that last night. That was so unprofessional. "Um," she says. "I just -- you agreed to the Harvest Festival because of my awesome presentation, right, not because I boned you?"

Ben's eyebrows go up, but his face stays completely deadpan otherwise. "It was absolutely because you boned me," he says.

She's almost positive he's joking -- he says it in that dry way he uses when he's joking, oh God, he's joking, right? She laughs nervously, and the nervousness must read pretty clearly because Ben smiles, setting his pen down and getting up. "Don't worry," he says, coming over to put a hand on her shoulder. She tries not to react to the feeling of it, how it makes her remember all the ways he touched her last night, and she thinks she's mostly successful. "It was an extremely awesome presentation. And a good plan."

Leslie wrinkles her nose. "It was, wasn't it?"

Ben grins at her. "It was," he says, and for a second his eyes flick down to her mouth. Oh God, oh no, she really wants to make out with him in his office, and she feels so panicky she doesn't know what to do. She can't even believe she kind of actually... likes him now. It's so unsettling. But then, thank goodness, he clears his throat and takes a giant step back, maybe because he knows how unprofessional it'd be to kiss right now too, and he puts his hands in his pockets for good measure, like he's making sure to keep them away from her.

Leslie doesn't quite know where to look. "Um, right, okay," she says, her voice getting kind of high-pitched. "Well, I just, you know, wanted to make sure we could still work together -- um, professionally."

"Absolutely," Ben says. "Not a problem."

She nods at him and says, "Good," and her heart's hammering away inside her chest, and oh great, now they're just standing here staring at each other and why does he have to be so stupidly cute all the time?

After a second Ben clears his throat again. "Oh, and by the way -- um, I was just thinking. If you need any help with the Harvest Festival I could probably carve out some time in my schedule. You said -- I mean, it's going to be a pretty big project so if, you know, you need an extra set of hands."

He looks so nervous and God, she just likes him so, so much. The Harvest Festival is so not his job, when did he get all sweet and thoughtful like this? "Yeah, um, that'd be nice," she says.

He beams at her, relief all over his face. "Okay, good," he says.

"Okay, yeah," she says, starting to fumble for the doorknob before she starts making any bad decisions. Him giving her that big doofy smile is just not helping, she needs to get out of here. "Okay, awesome, okay, um, see you later!"

"Okay," he says, grinning even wider, and she goes back to her office to spend the rest of the day actively not thinking about him. It's kind of a full-time job.


End file.
